


Pieces

by The_World_in_Black_and_White



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e14 Blame It On the Alcohol, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_World_in_Black_and_White/pseuds/The_World_in_Black_and_White
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt didn't know what to do. There were four other boys, half-naked, and cuddling in the same bed, barely inches away, and they had just the other night witnessed what may be the biggest breakdown in Gleek history. Nor did any of them have the best track records with Kurt, either, not to mention...</p><p>Unfortunately they're smarter than anyone ever gave them credit for, and, as they slowly begin to unravel Kurt Hummel's deepest secrets, they will be tested in every way possible. The question is; can they make sense of who he is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Thousand Miles Away From You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! First time posting on AO3. This story just popped into my head and before I knew it I was writing. I'm not sure where this will go, but I'm hoping for a positive response from the masses (such as yourselves) so opinions would be greatly appreciated! Also, as to the relationship, I haven't totally decided what to do about that yet, so, once again, opinions would be wonderful. Please enjoy reading this story. If there are any grammatical or spelling errors please notify me, and I will do my best to rectify them. Thanks for taking the time to read this note if you've gotten this far. I won't keep you any longer! Enjoy! 
> 
> Tags will be added as the story progresses, as some contain spoilers.
> 
> ~The World in Black and White

How did it become so messed up?

Kurt wished he knew, as he swiped at his cheek furiously, refusing to allow any tear reach more than the half-way point on his cheek until he, himself, reached his pillow at home.

He didn’t want to give any of them the satisfaction, especially not Puck or Finn. Or even Sam and Mike. After all, didn’t this just prove what they had all been saying since middle school? He was just an ugly little fag, and no one would ever love him. How could they?

But for Blaine, a gay man, to decide that he was bisexual and more interested in _Rachel fucking Berry_ than _Kurt_ , a _male_ … sort of…

Kurt didn’t know how much more he could take.

He honestly hadn’t meant to make Sam uncomfortable that one time, really, but he saw him, a nice, sweet guy who had never met any of them before and desperately seized the chance to have an actual _guy friend_ that didn’t look at him and remember countless Slushies and Dumpster Dives and flushing his head down the toilet and the pee balloons and the lawn furniture and…

Okay, he was officially hyperventilating.

Leaning against his car and sliding roughly to the ground, Kurt let out a choked sob as he recalled Finn’s words and his father’s, his _daddy’s_ , expression as he told him that he was forcing himself on this poor boy and making him uncomfortable because of his gayness.

Okay, maybe Burt hadn’t said it in _those words_ but the look on his face had been good enough for Kurt to jump to conclusions, that no matter how much his father insisted that he loved him, he wasn’t comfortable with him. He didn’t _like_ him. He didn't _want_ him.

And Kurt would be damned if that didn’t kill him a little inside.

The mental images of his dad and Finn sitting together, watching football with Carole snuggled next to his father and his dad proudly clapping Finn’s shoulder after every football game that he attended without fail while Kurt stood there with his straight A’s and his Cheerleading national title and the tears that no one ever _saw_.

Why didn’t they see him? Was he that repulsive? Was he so wrong? Why? What did he do wrong? He hadn’t told anyone. He thought people were finally starting to like him, a little. Be comfortable in a room with him without thinking they would catch homosexuality, what with David Karofsky gone and Sue Sylvester, the only teacher who seemed to give a fuck about him, principal and Glee and everything.

He was so, so wrong. He could see that now.

Sure, his dad and Carole had offered to give up their honeymoon to send him to Dalton, which was, he realized belatedly and in horror, probably an attempt to get rid of him, but he couldn’t do that to them and so he had happily waved them off to Hawaii, mentally bracing himself to face Karofsky at school and Finn’s endless avoidance of him at home.

One good thing; it turned out that Karofsky transferred and only Azimio knew where he went. They guy had actually walked up to him and apologized for treating him so badly, but didn’t do so happily and made it perfectly clear that the only reason he was doing it was to try and make it up to Karofsky, who was his best friend and also, incidentally, _gay_.

As the fucking Fourth of July, it appeared.

Take that, motherfuckers.

Kurt giggled hysterically in the freezing air, shivering in both hysteria and cold, rubbing his hands up and down his thinly covered arms in a fruitless attempt to generate heat. He stared up at his Navigator, the car seeming huge and imposing and _protective_ from his position on the floor and the next thing he knew he was in the driver’s seat, driving and driving in utter silence, afraid to break whatever trance he was in by turning on the radio.

He didn’t stop until he saw a sign on the side of the road reading ‘You are now leaving Lima, Ohio. Please come again!’ in chirpy lettering with a picture of a waitress holding a platter with a drink and burger on it and the next thing he knew he was pulling over, running out of the car, dropping to his knees in the middle of the road and _screaming_. He screamed and screamed, crying out in pain and defiance to the stars.

As he fell back, gazing up, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the stars were. He had never seen so many, they were always drowned out by town lights, but now, here, they were _breathtaking_. Almost automatically he began to point out to himself, complete with the use of a finger and his voice, what constellations were where, feeling more alone than he ever had and yet, at the same time, more free than he could ever remember being.

It was the realization that he could go anywhere. In this moment, he could do anything. _Be_ anything. He could get back in his car, drive until he reached New York and see Wicked or something. He could go to L.A. and tell everyone his name was Eren Yeager and yes, he did come before the anime character, thank you very much. He could go to California, or Canada, or Texas or-

Or home.

He jolted softly as he remembered his basement, his warm, comforting basement and smiled as he realized that no, he would not be going anywhere. He would go home, like he always did, because there was so much he still needed to do there.

He needed to hear his father say he was proud of him. He needed to graduate top of his class from McKinley with all AP subjects and a G.P.A of 4.58 (he had hacked into Figgin’s computer and checked once) before heading to New York and doing a degree in design and starting his own label of clothes and becoming fabulous and successful.

Shit, he was hyperventilating again.

At the deadpan tone his though held in his head, he let out a hysterical giggle and before he knew it he had jumped off the ground, thrown his arms out to the side and started laughing in glee, spinning and dancing around the road, letting out whoops of joy.

Panting for breath, he leaned against his car once more, letting his head fall back and the breath to leave him in a relieved rush.

It was nice to be able to breath. Kurt hadn’t realized how little he had been breathing before now. Hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, how much he’d been carrying around with him. Yes, Kurt decided, it was nice to breath.

Getting back in his car, he was about to start the engine when he saw the headlights up the road, approaching steadily. Frowning and sinking a little lower in the seat, he cautiously locked the doors as he awaited the strange car – he couldn’t see due to the _high beam_ the driver was using – to pass him by.

Only, it didn’t.

It slowly pulled to a stop across the road from him, and just as he tensed and reached into his glove box to pull out the little hand gun the NRA had given him once he got his license for it and _oh my god_ was that really who he thought it was?

The lights if the car- no, truck, turned off as the engine cut off and the driver jumped nimbly out of the window and started jogging across the road to Kurt.

“Hey! Hummel.” The driver rapped their knuckles of Kurt’s passenger window and he blinked furiously in an attempt to reassure himself that this was _reality_ because it sure as hell didn’t _look_ like it to him.

“Puck?!”

“No, it’s the tooth fairy.” Came the response, the deep voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance and- and was that _concern_ and Kurt really had no idea what the fuck was happening and-

“Hummel?” the voice was definitely concerned, and Kurt couldn’t find it within himself to respond because oh shit he was hyperventilating _again_ and Puck, of all people; _Puck_ , looked so _worried_ about him and all he could do was throw the door open, stumble over to the jock, fall into his arms and bawl like he hadn’t since his mother had died.

It obviously caught the jock by surprise, but Kurt had to give him major credit for just rolling with it and wrapping his god they were _strong_ arms around him and pulling him into the broadest, firmest chest he had ever felt in his life and _lifting_ him off the ground like he weighed absolutely _nothing_ and rearranging the Kurt in his arms so Puck could slide to the ground and hold him on his lap and a small part of Kurt noted that Puck must have done this before because there was no way he could be this good at this without having practiced and he was making the gentlest sounds Kurt had ever heard and rocking him and stroking his hair and Kurt just knew he was practically drowning the boy’s shoulder in sobs but couldn’t bring himself to care because Puck sure as hell wasn’t complaining and-

“You found him?” a breathlessly relieved voice sounded from behind Kurt and Kurt couldn’t even begin to comprehend when these other people had arrived and _who were they_ because Kurt could hear more than one set of footsteps and he couldn’t help the helpless whimper that escaped him at the thought of someone else seeing him like this. Puck was bad enough, but he held regular late-night conversations with Santana, so Kurt was confident that he could keep the boy quiet but what about _these_ people?

“Shh, it’s okay, Kurt.” Puck whispered to him, stroking his hair gently and rocking him from side to side again and when had they stopped…?

“It’s just me, Kurt. It’s Finn… oh, right. And Sam and Mike, they’re here as well.” A hand gently touched his back, hesitantly, before steadying and beginning to gently rub up and down soothingly but Kurt still couldn’t help the wail of despair from escaping him at the thought of not just _Puck_ and _Finn_ but _Sam_ and _Mike_ seeing him like this as well.

The pathetic sound seemed to have made Finn’s decision for him, because the next thing he knew was there was a large, warm chest at his back, on Puck’s right, cradling him as well and whispering soft words in his ear.

“What happened, Kurt?” he heard Mike whisper from somewhere behind Finn, and he felt more than heard Sam sit in front of him, on Puck’s left and take his hand between both of his larger, calloused palms.

“I-I don’t… I can’t…” he choked out, feeling sick at the words that were trying to force their way out of his throat. “Shh…” Puck soothed, and he just knew the boy was shooting Mike a warning glare that practically screamed ‘don’t fucking ask again’ as he tightened his grip on Kurt, and Kurt couldn’t help but think that Puck was trying to hold him there, stop him from escaping, or running again. “It’s okay; just take deep breaths, alright? We’ve got you, its fine. You’re fine. I promise.”

Kurt wished we could believe Puck; believe that he was fine, that everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. They didn’t even know, how dare they make such promises to him? Saying things like ‘we’ve got you’. Kurt knew, he knew that the moment they’d find out they would run for the hills, preaching his freakishness to everyone who would listen as they went. Of course they would. It was true, after all, and what they had all been saying all along.

But, for once, Kurt didn’t want to be left alone. He didn’t want to push someone away violently, to pierce their very souls with his words, coated with venom. To make them hurt as much as he did. He wanted… he wanted… to be held. That was all he wanted. Would it be so bad to just let it happen? Just once. Just… this once…

“I think he’s asleep.” Puck whispered to the others as Kurt’s shaking and crying and heartbreaking whimpers finally subsided and the _far_ too thin body fell limply against his.

Finn lifted his head from where it was practically on Puck’s shoulder, the tall boy curled so tightly around his step-brother in an attempt to shield him from whatever had hurt him and Puck couldn’t help the hysterical thought bubbling with him that this whole thing was _so gay_ and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Sam was right up against Puck’s left side, desperately warming Kurt’s fingers and toes with his hands and breath and Mike was standing vigil over all of them, keeping an eye and also texting the others to tell them that the search was off and they’d found Kurt, not to worry and that they would look after him. Mike had received several replies, one from Santana stating that ‘they’d better’, one from Britney saying that she hoped ‘her dolphin’ felt better, and would he like to cuddle ‘Sir Bear’, followed by another saying she would just drop ‘Sir Bear’ off at Kurt’s house for him. There was a couple from Tina, Rachel, Quinn and Mercedes saying stuff along the lines of ‘thank god, tell us if there is anything we can do’, one from Artie apologizing for not being able to help in the epic search and one from The Hobbit, stating how worried he was and how he hoped Kurt would ‘feel better soon’.

Mike had never wanted to hit someone like he wanted to hit Blaine fucking Anderson right now.

“What the hell happened to him?” Sam asked softly, sadly, stroking Kurt’s hair from his forehead and tracing the tear tracks on his cheek.

“That fucking hobbit happened to him, that’s what.” Mike snarled before the others could say anything, surprising all of them with the sheer amount of _venom_ in his voice.

“No.” Finn said. “This is something more.”

Puck couldn’t hide the slightly impressed look he shot Finn for the boy being so surprisingly insightful, for the first time in his life.

“I just wish we knew what…” Sam replied sadly.

“Right!” Puck said, catching their attention. “Let’s get going, meet up at the Hummel residence and we’ll have a conference later, okay?” after receiving four nods in return, he stood up, holding Kurt princess-style in his arms and turning to give the others directions. “Finn, take Kurt’s car. The keys are still in the ignition. Mike and Sam, go same way you got here; together. I’ll take Kurt and we’ll park outside. Probably stay the night. Everybody good with that?”

The others nodded, so Puck turned around and walked to his truck, hearing Kurt’s Navigator start behind him and Mike and Sam walk to Mike’s car and hop in. Puck, on the other hand, took a moment to hold Kurt tightly, the boy subconsciously moving his head so it rested over Puck’s heart and he couldn’t help the painful contraction of said organ at the peaceful expression of the countertenor’s face, tear tracks marking it in a way they had no right to.

He gently lay Kurt across the truck bed, jumping into the driver’s seat and pulling Kurt so the boy’s head was resting on his thigh. The brunette snuffled lightly in his sleep and he looked so much like Puck’s little sister in that action that Puck had to physically stop himself from moving and just stare, open-mouthed at the boy before snapping back to reality and driving away.

It took far too long to drive to the Hud-mel house, Puck having to pause and shift Kurt because he moved or soothe him because he whimpered more than a few times along the way. By the time he got there Finn, Mike and Sam where waiting outside impatiently, a small teddy bear hanging limply from one of Finn’s hands and Puck couldn’t hide the small smile as the boys swarmed the vehicle as soon as it stopped, lifting Kurt from the truck and carrying him into the house, Finn directing them downstairs to Kurt’s basement which was _amazing_ by the way.

Puck’s eyes took in the silver and grey-purple stripes on the wall, the desk and iHome next to the stairs, the large, antique bookcases, entertainment system and couch, large, puffy armchair and freaking _massive_ bed.

It was dark wood, and Puck didn’t know what type, but it fitted in perfectly with the combination of modern minimalist and antique comfort that only Kurt could pull off in his bedroom. The sheets were black, with a grey comforter and silver quilt and the fluffiest, warmest royal purple blanket Puck had ever seen. The bed was so big it accommodated three rows of pillows, black on the bottom to match the sheets and silver on top, matching the quilt. Then there were two European pillows in royal purple going over the gaps, a v-shaped pillow in black and several cushions of assorted designs in silver and purple, of course. It was high, as high as Finn’s waist and Puck knew that tiny, little Kurt would have had to jump to get into it. Next to it was a round, fluffy purple rug, slightly underneath both the bed and one of the matching side-tables, the one that had the alarm clock on it.

Next to Kurt’s bed was another armchair, matching the one they had seen earlier with its velvety-suede like material, only this one was silvery-white instead of the dark purple of the other one, and they each had a pillow on them, obviously made of silk, that was either purple for the silver one or silver for the purple one.Over it was a set of soft, cotton pyjamas. They were black, with mini-short pants and a button up top.

Puck gently lay Kurt on the bed, beginning to take his shoes and socks off and giving the aweing boys a stern glare and demand for assistance, which spurred Sam to put the teddy bear Finn had given him on the bed and Kurt’s bag on his table, along with him coat, folded neatly while Mike started to unbutton Kurt’s waistcoat and untuck his shirt, handing the items to Sam for them to be neatly folded as well.

“Oh, god…” Mike whispered in horror as Finn came down the stairs, a glass of water in his hand and a frantically worried expression on his face at the words.

“What?!” he whispered loudly, and Puck couldn’t even bring himself to berate him, too busy letting his expression crease in pain at the sight of each one of Kurt’s ribs on show for them to count, not too much but enough to be there. There were bruises on his sides and back from locker checks and Puck could see from where he was, setting Kurt’s shoes down that the vertebrae in his spine were too visible as well.

“What have we done?” the tearful question broke them out of their reverie, and they turned as one to Mike, who was still stood there, stroking a trembling fingertip down Kurt’s suddenly hollow cheek and no one could bring themselves to answer. “Mike.” Puck said, walking over to the bed. “Mike.” He replied firmly, taking a hold of the boy’s wrist and forcing him to meet his gaze. “Go get his pyjamas.”

“But-“

“Pyjamas, Mike.” It was obvious to Puck that he had to hold himself together right now, because no one else seemed to be able to.

Mike nodded shortly and went to grab the items of clothing as Puck peeled Kurt’s skin-tight pants off his legs, revealing the long, pale, shapely and hairless limbs and, despite himself, his cock gave a small twitch to show its approval. However, his self-disgust at the action quickly scrapped any stirrings because this was his _friend_ and he _obviously_ needed _help_ , not some jerk of a jock perving on him while he was unconscious.

Due to this, he quickly allowed Mike to put Kurt’s clothing and shorts on, though the latter items weren’t much of an improvement over the bare legs and briefs, stopping at the top of his thighs and fitting his ass tightly.

Sam was still folding Kurt’s clothes, apparently having no clue how to tackle the waistcoat, so it was Finn who pulled the covers back so Puck and Mike could place Kurt under them.

Puck had no sooner turned to see that Sam had evidently given up the fight and just put the waistcoat down on the table, laid out, than he was turning back around at the sound of Mike shucking off his jacket and jeans, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxer-briefs, sliding into the bed next to Kurt and smiling gently as Kurt rolled over and snuggled into his side, head resting over his chest.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?!” Puck hissed before Finn had a chance to, though the tall boy looked like he had been gearing up to give a rant worthy of Rachel Berry herself.

“I…” Mike looked down helplessly for a moment, eyes falling on Kurt’s face before raising again, shining with determination and challenge. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

Puck couldn’t say anything, only turn his head in shock as Sam suddenly stripped down to a white singlet and plaid boxers, sliding in on the other side and spooning Kurt from behind as the boy laid his head on Mike’s chest and slept.

“Oh, whatever…” Puck sighed in defeat, throwing his own clothes to the floor, leaving his boxer-briefs and sliding in so he was next to Mike, slightly on his side with his left arm stretched across the bed so Mike and Sam’s heads rested on it.

The next thing he knew, a delicate hand came to rest over his heart, and he brought his right up to cradle the soft, porcelain-like skin. He could see Finn debating with himself, and Puck simply raised an eyebrow at him and the empty space behind Sam and then Finn’s decision was made and he was spooning against Sam, arm slinging over Sam’s waist to wrap around Kurt’s, incidentally holding Sam’s as well as, well, no one mentioned it.

They nodded off, one by one until it was just Puck, staring up at the roof that he suddenly noticed was covered in glow in the dark stars and he smiled softly, turning his head to stare at the boy who genuinely seemed to _glow_ in the moonlight that filtered through the window. If someone had told him a week ago, heck, twelve hours ago, that he would be in bed with _four other men_ and not find it weird or uncomfortable in the slightest, he probably would’ve punched them, but as it turned out, here he was.

And as the hand in his grasp flexed so their fingers entwined, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.


	2. Interlude: Burt Hummel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys wake up and find themselves in a bit of a situation. Can they prove themselves worthy? Or is this the end for our favorite Gleeks?

Sam was the first to wake.

He knew this, because he could feel Finn's steady breathing against his back, and Mike's eyes were closed, still facing the roof. Next to him, Puck was snoring lightly, and Sam quickly registered that his head was resting on the jock's forearm. Kurt was still resting on Mike's chest, and it took Sam several more moments to register what had woken him up.

He could hear someone moving about upstairs, coming closer, and his heart began to beat frantically and he reached over to shake Puck and Finn awake simultaneously.

"Puck!" he hissed in the boy's ear. "Puck! Wake up! Now!"

The boy jolted into consciousness, enough that his entire left arm shifted, waking Mike with a start and sending Finn from his precarious position on the edge of the bed to the floor.

"Kurt?" a deep, masculine voice sounded from above their heads, and one moment everyone was frozen and the next they were frantically trying to clothe themselves and move Kurt from Mike's chest so the Asian could, at least, put his pants on.

By the time the door to the basement opened and footsteps sounded down the stairs, Kurt was sprawled indecently on is stomach across his bed, one side of his sleep-shorts riding up and exposing _far_ too much for Burt's liking, Puck was tangled up in his shirt, Mike was hopping from foot to foot trying to pull his jeans up, Finn was face-planting Kurt's rug, because honestly the boy had no balance whatsoever and Sam was... trying to hide under the bed?

Coward.

As one, the four boys turned their deer-in-headlight expressions to the decidedly unimpressed, undoubtedly pissed of and _indubitably_ terrifying Burt Hummel.

The man, complete with his Mellencamp shirt, flannel pullover, cargo pants and heavy work boots, and tool belt that held _far_ too many potential murder weapons for anyone's ease simply raised one eyebrow, - oh, that's where Kurt got it from - spoke two simple words, turned and left.

"Upstairs. Now."

There was a moment where no one could physically say anything, not even so much as breathing as they all turned to look at one another, expressions identical ones of impending doom, until Finn's voice broke the silence.

" _Fuck_."

"Do you reckon I should text my mum 'I love her'?" Sam spoke next.

"I think I'm going to." Mike replied, pulling his pants the rest of the way up and fishing his phone out from his back pocket.

"Finn?" Puck started, voice weak and crackly and _ridiculously_ high and under any other circumstances he might have done something about it; like punch the other guys' lights out, for example, but right now he was far too terrified to do anything of the sort.

"Y-yeah?" Finn didn't sound much better, and Puck felt that small(ish), arrogant part of him unfurl in relief.

"Does Burt own a gun?"

"Yeah," _what_ , "but Kurt took it from him and locked it away in his closet because Burt kept polishing it while I was around and Kurt said that if it kept on I would con-contract - that's the word - panic disorder or something. I dunno. Something about panicking, anyway."

"Well, is it still there?" please, _please_ let it still be there.

"You'd have to check." Finn shrugged and Puck, halfway through the process of pulling on his own pants, stopped to stare at the tall boy incredulously.

"Well, _can_ you?!"

" _Hell_ no, man! I'm _never_ going in there again." Finn shook his head vigorously, gesturing to a set of white double doors with an exaggerated look of horror.

"It can't be _that_ bad."

"I had to help him move all his stuff. Never saw what was in the boxes, but his dad had to hire a _mini-van_ to move all the stuff. It's as big as your _bedroom_ , dude."

"No fucking way..." Puck muttered, craning to get a look as Sam, who had been following the conversation, approached the doors with trepidation, slowly laying his hands on the two door knobs and starting to turn them-

"The fuck you punks are doing?!"

The sharp shout sent Sam careening backwards with a yell, all the way to Kurt's bed, where he fell rather ungracefully. Nobody moved, waiting for Kurt to wake up and instantly know what was happening and that they had been about to snoop around in his closet and kill them all with his dad's gun, but all the boy did was make a sound of contentment as he rolled over, snuggling into Sam with a happy sigh, arms and legs constricting around the blonde like vises.

"Um... help?" he whimpered, and it took the boys a good thirty seconds to get Kurt to release his grip on his friend, and that was only by replacing the blonde's body with a body-pillow found underneath the bed.

They shared a small sigh of relief as they watched the, admittedly, adorable auburn-haired boy snuggle into the body pillow, before sending him wide-eyed looks of horror as he frowned and, _unconsciously_ , punched the pillow roughly a couple of times, fluffing it before settling down happily, burying his face into it and tightening his grip to the point where they could practically hear the pillow gasping for breath.

It was with these expressions that they entered the kitchen, taking the seats in the bar stools that Burt motioned them into and watching as the man finished heating a thermos in the microwave.

After several minutes of utter silence, Sam couldn't take it anymore, but the moment he opened his mouth to inhale, Burt lifted one finger at him from his grip around the thermos and Sam snapped his mouth shut with an audible click that made Puck wince slightly.

"So..." Burt began after several more minutes of tense and apprehensive silence. "Anyone feel like explaining to me what they were doing in my little boy's bed, _half-naked_ , this morning?"

The tone was pleasant, and somehow that just made the whole thing so much more terrifying and for a moment all four boys stammered out letters and syllables helplessly, speechless in the face of Burt's obvious 'Papa Bear' tendencies.

"Y-you see, - sir - um, that is, w-we were j-just, - sir - hehe, cause Kurt, - sir - and then we, - sir - s-so, y-you know? Sir." was the basic gist of what was said.

"Anyone feel like explaining that is _actually_ capable of stringing a sentence together?"

"W-where's mum?" Finn asked quickly, hoping that she would appear and deflect the man in front of him. He had _just_ gotten off Burt's bad side, and really, really didn't want to find himself back on it.

"Your mother had the early shift at the hospital." She's not here to save you.

"Sir," Puck started, when it became apparent no one else would, and Burt was growing impatient. "Something happened at last night's party that really upset Kurt and after he cried we brought him home but he was really torn up and we thought it would be best if he didn't wake up alone, plus it was like three in the morning and we were really tired cause we had to drive all the way out to the 'Welcome to Lima' sign to find him after he ran out and that's when he started crying and he fell asleep so we put him in bed and those pyjamas were just there I didn't pick them out, I swear, but I get that those shorts were really short and I should have found different ones but I didn't want to snoop and Kurt would've killed me if I did and he's kind of terrifying, no offense, so I didn't want him to be mad, and-"

After Burt got over the initial worry and concern that Kurt had been upset, the rage that something had upset him, and the shock because how the hell was this boy not needing to breath between words, he cut him off, because it was starting to become truly painful to listen to him flounder.

"Okay, son, you've said enough." Burt said in a considerably warmer tone to the frigid one he had been using, and he could barely stop himself from laughing at the sheer relief on the boys' faces at his words. "I think I understand the gist of it."

"Y-you do?" the blonde one spoke this time, with such a hopeful, puppy-like expression on his face that Burt actually did chuckle this time, prompting a tilted head and furrowed brow that just made him laugh a bit more.

"Yeah. Kurt got upset, ran out, drove far away, you guys got worried, drove all over town looking for him, found him and took care of him." Burt shrugged, putting his thermos down on the counter and grinned at the boys. "Seeing as it's only Saturday, it's fine if you hang around for the day. I'm going to work, but there's a whole bunch of food in the fridge to reheat and Finn, you know where Kurt puts his pre-made coffees. When Kurt wakes up, I'll see if your story checks out. If it doesn't, I'm a licensed member of the NRA, Kurt's been going with me since he was a baby and the guys up there love him to bits. Later."

And with that, Burt left the building.


	3. Scattered Pieces of Who I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys do some snooping, but before any real conclusions can be made by our amateur detectives, Kurt awakens and awkward moments over the Hud-mel kitchen ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! So, I ended up writing like three chapters all at once and I realized that 'this' is where this story is going. I hope everyone's okay with this ^^. Please drop me a review/comment if you can, I love to hear from all of you! I would put the 'endgame' that the boys figure out up as a tag, but I really don't want to ruin the surprise. Also, I'd like to see how many of you manage to figure it out seeing as it'll mostly be from Kurt's point of view after he regains consciousness. ^_^b

Burt left the house, seemingly taking all of the tension within it with him as all four boys breathed simultaneous sighs of relief and slumped in their chairs, hearts slowing from their pounding rates and and oxygen making it's return to their lungs. "Thank god that's over." Sam muttered, and Puck couldn't help but laugh his agreement to the boy's statement, quickly echoed by the others as they let go of the last of their tension and just relaxed.

"Geez, Finn, how the heck do you survive the day?" Mike asked, his voice half-teasing, half-serious.

"I ask myself that all the time." Finn replied, standing from the counter and making his way back through the house towards the basement stairs. It spoke wonders for where Kurt got his infamous lung capabilities that the boys had heard Burt from Kurt's basement with the man in the kitchen. The others laughed softly at Finn's words, shaking their heads in pity at the thought of having the most overprotective father in the world hovering over their shoulder during their every interaction with his son. It was no wonder Finn constantly looked so tired in the mornings; if he had _that_ constantly hanging in the back of his mind, Puck would have trouble sleeping too.

The boys reentered the room, noticing that Kurt hadn't moved from his position, except to snuggle deeper into the blankets and pillow, tugging at the boys' collective heartstrings and Puck just knew that if the girls were here they would be subjected to endless choruses of 'aw'.

Shuddering at the mere thought, Puck wondered how Kurt could not only put up with the girls on a regular, borderline constant, basis, but actually call himself an 'honorary girl'.

"Um... Finn?" Sam's uncertain voice broke Puck out of his reverie and he turned to Sam with one eyebrow raised in query, before following the boy's nod to where Finn was, almost humorously, sneaking across the carpet and towards the double doors that led to Kurt's apparently 'massive' closet, though Puck was sure that Finn had been exaggerating. Probably.

"Dude? I'm... not so sure you should be doing that. Weren't you the one swearing up and down that you would never, ever, _ever_ go in there?" Puck said, leaning against the wall with one ankle hooked over the other and his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow making a steady incline towards his hairline as he tried to figure out exactly _what_ , pray tell, his friend was doing.

"I'm really curious, though, man! I mean, I was thinking about it all during the kitchen thingy and now I have to know!" Finn's voice tapered off into more of a whine than the determined air he started off with, and by the end of his little speech he looked like a five-year old in a supermarket that was dead-set on getting gummy bears.

Puck had a theory about all this, though: the lack of oxygen due to altitude.

"Right..." he drawled disbelievingly, knowing without needing to ask that the boy had been waiting ages to get a chance to sneak in there without Kurt flaying him alive. "Have fun with that, then. Send us a postcard." Puck waved his hand in a mock-encouraging gesture, but apparently the sarcasm was too sharp for Finn to catch, because all the boy did was nod, pull himself up and approach the doors, opening one and slipping in, the sound not quite masking that of Puck's hand meeting his forehead.

"Holy shit..."

"What? What did you find?" Sam asked, craning his neck but unable to see in.

"Freaking Narnia, man. You have got to see this!" Finn's voice called out to them, sounding awed and amazed and mildly terrified all at the same time. Puck exchanged looks with the other boys, and within a second they had all made a mad scramble for the doors, throwing them open and suddenly finding themselves unable to do anything but let their jaws hit the ground at the sight.

_Whoa..._

In front of them was a room even bigger than Puck's bedroom, as big as Mike's, at _least_ , and lined with clothes. On the left wall was a set of five drawers that went up by four with the top divided in half to make two. Above that was a small clothes rack that held shirts, a few pants and a couple of jackets, all _exceptionally_ expensive in appearance - and that's taking in consideration everything else in the room - and a part of Puck was afraid to so much as breath on it in fear of somehow damaging the fabric and bringing the wrath of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel upon him.

Next to the drawers was a full height set of shelves, full of _shoes_. Puck had never seen so many shoes in his life. He could count ten shelves, the top eight all being shoes still in their boxes while the bottom two displayed the shoes that he had seen Kurt wearing around school. It was with a jolt and strong, sudden feeling of guilt that he realized he only knew that because he had spent the better part of two years throwing their wearer into a dumpster.

Next to that was about a foot and a half of empty space where the clothes rack that went all the way across the wall opposite the door began, and he could see a massive stack of shoe boxes that could only hold boots of some kind filling the small space like it was made specifically with them in mind and, knowing Kurt, it probably was. Lining the floor along the opposite wall Puck could see more boots that he remembered Kurt wearing as well, and while it made him curious as to what was in the boxes, Puck suspected Kurt probably had some kind of snake hiding amongst them, trained to bite anyone who touched them and wasn't Kurt, and thereby thought against investigating further.

The rack was covered in clothes, everything from shirts to pants to jackets to _'hip-wraps'_ , - though Puck still swore, _silently_ , up and down they were _skirts_ \- colour-coded and organized by type. Puck was mildly in awe of Kurt at this point, and he was almost afraid to turn to the right, but it was like a train wreck. You want to turn away, but you just can't. Accepting his fate, he twisted his head around slowly.

Leaving another empty space to match the wall opposite it, there was a matching set of five drawers, and two shelves on top that held bags, from an expensive looking leather messenger bag to an equally expensive looking backpack. There was even a sleek leather bum-bag that Puck had the suspicion _only_ Kurt could pull off. Next to it was a sliding door type thing that consisted of a very large mirror, reflecting the entire room and their dumbfounded faces back at them mockingly. Reaching out to slide it across, Mike inadvertently revealed another set of shelves, only there were only eight this time, and the bottom two had doors covering them that no one was willing to mess with, while the top two consisted of hat boxes that Puck could swear he saw flour covering to catch fingerprints, though it might have just been him being paranoid. He imagined that doing this was akin to what that raccoon in over the hedge did the the bear when he snuck into his cave. The middle four, once again, held hats that Puck recognized as hats Kurt had worn before.

To the right of that, between the shelves and the wall was another clothes rack, this time consisting solely of pitch black, cloth, heavy-duty garment-bags, shielding whatever nefarious item of clothing they held from sight and stopping just above the large chest that completed the dark and, admittedly, nerve-wracking corner.

It was made of wood, painted over by white and then all different colours. The lining around each part was a gentle pink, while there was a silver lid and purple made up the walls. There were several old stickers, half-torn off and Puck couldn't make them out in the shadows, but he saw the elegant, black writing spelling out Kurt's name on the silver, creating a rather nice contrast.

Tilting his head up, he took in the high shelf that ran throughout all three wall of the room, between the roof and the tops of the wardrobe, and he could see several black bin-liners full of _something_ stuffed up there, as well as a luxurious looking luggage set and several other items Puck couldn't even begin to name.

"He has his own mall..." Sam whimpered softly, Mike nodding slowly in agreement as he sat down heavily on the white leather, quilted, round ottoman that sat in the middle of the room on top of a plush, white carpet. There was even a taller bit in the middle for them to rest their backs on, and the boys took advantage of that by leaning heavily against it and trying to let their minds wrap around what they were seeing.

Taking a cursory glance over to the doorway to reassure himself that Kurt was still sleeping and was _not_ about to wake up and brutally murder them all without getting a single drop of blood on anything indispensable, his eyes roved over the tall wicker basket Kurt obviously used for laundry, and tiny, little, portable clothes rack that Kurt had his Cheerios uniform hanging from on the right hand side of the doors, he let himself slump backwards for a minute, closing his eyes to the awe-inspiring yet terrifying sight he had just taken in.

"Well," he sighed, getting the others' attention, but before he could finish his thought a sound from the bedroom drew their horrified attentions and, as the sound of someone shifting between sheets and making sleepy sounds of 'I'm waking up', there was a mad scramble to be out of the doors, have them closed and be in a somewhat natural pose by the time Kurt sat up in bed, rubbing his eyed sleepily and snuffling lightly as he blinked blearily at them.

"Good morning!" Puck said cheerfully from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed, Sam, Finn and Mike crowding it and making no movements suggesting any intention of backing off any time soon.

"Morning..." Kurt muttered in reply, stretching like a cat as he yawned. "What time is it?"

"Around 9. Your dad already left for work about half an hour ago." Sam answered after a beat, Puck having barely registered the words in favor of the bruises he could see on Kurt's back and sides from locker checks while Mike swallowed heavily and Finn felt his nostrils flare in response.

"What?!" Kurt cried. "Oh, no! Finn, did he get his lunch? Please tell me he grabbed his lunch!" Kurt cried desperately, flying out from the bed and pausing on his tip-toes in front of the taken aback teen. "Finn?!"

"Oh, y-yeah. The brown paper bag that read 'Burt: Lunch'? He grabbed it and the thermos that had that post-it note on it with his name." Finn replied after a moment, nearly going cross-eyed as he stared down his nose at his tiny stepbrother.

"Oh, thank goodness." Kurt sighed in relief, slumping back down onto his bed for a moment before something else occurred to him. "And you guys haven't eaten yet, either?" his eyes searched their expressions, and when he received four negative responses, he sighed in exasperation, rubbing a hand over his face. Puck thought he heard the boy mutter something about 'men' and 'useless' but he was slightly confused by it because wouldn't Kurt be lumping himself in with them, in that case? Before he could contemplate it any further, Kurt ushered them back up to the kitchen where he began pulling pots and pans from the cupboards.

"Um... this is a really nice kitchen, Kurt. Who picked it out?" Mike said after the silence became too much for him to take.

Kurt looked up with a small smile as he responded, "I did." His smile only widened when met with incredulous expressions from the four boys.

"Seriously?! Dude, this is like, gourmet stuff! Like a proper chef or something." Sam cried at the same time as Finn said indignantly; "I didn't know that!"

"You never asked, Finn." Kurt replied. "And please don't call me dude, Sam." He added in a slightly tenser tone, prompting the boy to just nod and apologize without argument. "My father refurbished this house so we could all live here comfortably, but someone had to make the executive decisions and, no offense, but you inherited your mother's fashion sense."

Puck could see Finn open his mouth to defend Carole, but the boy swiftly closed it with a thoughtful look on his face, before shrugging and admitting "sad, but true." which made Kurt laugh as he cracked four eggs, two in each hand, over the frying pan.

"How does everyone feel about omelets?" Kurt asked, turning to them all with a smile as he started to pull out a knife and chopping board.

"Awesome!" Finn enthused before anyone else could reply. "Please tell me your making those ones you made that one time when Burt and Carole went for their honeymoon and you said it was to thank me for what I did at the wedding and wrote 'Furt' on it in sauce!" he gushed, and just like that everyone's interest was peaked.

Kurt blushed slightly at the appraisal from the other boys, but gave a quick affirmative that had Finn doing a little dance in his seat and everyone else leaning forward, craning their necks to try and see what Kurt was doing. Unfortunately, it was to no avail, but the omelets that landed in front of them, complete with baked beans, turkey bacon, hash-browns, toast and sausages, all they could do was let their mouths water at the sight.

"Well, dig in!" at Kurt's encouragement they did just that, pausing only once after their first bite to exchange wide-eyed, awed looks before digging in with gusto. Kurt smiled as he watched them, and Puck didn't notice until after he had devoured his plate.

"Aren't you eating?" he asked, pointed at Kurt with his fork for emphasis and gaining the attention of Sam, Mike and Finn, the latter of whom had been staring mournfully at his empty plate.

"Oh! Um... no." Kurt admitted with a slightly sheepish look. "Coach Sylvester said I had to lose some weight and do something about my 'pear hips' or she'd kidnap me and make me live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with nothing but plaid and polka-dots in clashing colours of pink and green, and brown and green, because seriously, only trees can pull that off, for clothing. Honestly, I'd rather wear nothing at all and go streaking through McKinley High than have to wear any of that."

Puck blinked at him a couple of times, before what Kurt had said actually registered and he let his fork clatter back to his plate. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"I know! But I suppose it could have been worse, dark purple with dark green doesn't just take the cake, it takes the whole Christmas tin and, in hindsight, a lot of awful colour combos involve green."

"No! Not that!" Puck spluttered. "I could give two fucks about that! You are not starving yourself because Lima's resident tyrant decreed it so! I'd rather see you off the Cheerios than anorexic!"

"Dude, you're anorexic?" Finn said, head shooting up in alarm and concern, and Puck could feel Sam and Mike tense to his right.

"No! And don't call me dude, you know I hate that!" Kurt cried in denial. "But, god, no. I would never do that to myself! I'm just losing a bit off my middle, butt and thighs, meaning a little less fried food and a few more squats. It's nothing." He waved his hand in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but Puck was too wound up by the mental image of a skeletally thin Kurt being locker-checked by Azimio or Karofsky and just _breaking_.

"No fucking way are you doing this! There is nothing wrong with you!" Puck hissed, expression more serious than it had ever been and Kurt looked taken aback for a moment at the intensity before his eyes softened slightly.

"Don't worry, Puck, guys. I'm fine, I promise. I'm not starving myself, or anorexic. I'll eat right now if you want." Kurt offered, looking slightly touched at their concern.

Puck didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow before watching like a hawk as Kurt poured himself two weet-bix and soy milk, eating it slowly, constantly glancing up to see if Puck was still staring at him, sometimes with an unreadable expression that Puck didn't want to read too much into.

By the time Kurt was done, Finn had poured himself two glasses of orange juice, on top of the one that Kurt had given them all, and Kurt was standing on the other side of the counter looking decidedly uncomfortable, opening and closing his mouth like he had something to say but couldn't bring himself to.

"Um," he finally began, looking up at them all with an uncertain expression, "about last night..."

"Dude, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It can wait." Sam cut him off, taking pity on the younger boy and smiling reassuringly at him when Kurt flicked his gaze up to the blonde.

"Thanks, guys. For... taking care of me. I just-" he sighed, "thank you. You have no idea how much it meant to me. And for the love of god, the next person to call me dude takes an old lady's handbag to the face."

"Anytime. Just, please don't hit me with a bag, though." Mike replied. "But I need to head off, now. I told my parents I was staying over at Sam's and if I'm not back soon they'll get worried. See ya." He grinned and waved at them as he walked out of the kitchen, slinging his jacket over it shoulders as he went.

"Yeah, same here," Sam started. "Later guys. See you on Monday!" he hauled himself up from the kitchen counter, ran and grabbed his own jacket and left, diving into Mike's car just as it started up and drove away.

"I should probably head off to," Puck rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling the coarse hairs of his Mohawk run over his fingers and was unable to silently compare them to the feel of Kurt's own incredibly soft, reddish-brown hair. "I gotta take my sister to soccer practice. But, Kurt, sorry for freaking out earlier, it's just-"

"Don't worry about it." Kurt cut in, smiling reassuringly. "It was understandable. If any of the girls had a problem like that I'd be the same, probably worse. Besides, it's nice to know someone cares." He grinned with a small shrug. "I'm gonna go downstairs if you need me, okay Finn?" after Finn nodded, he tilted his head at both of them and disappeared back into the house.

"Finn," Puck called up the driveway, once he was halfway down it.

"Yeah, man?" Finn paused from where he was closing the door, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Just... keep an eye on him, alright? I know we've all had our differences, with him more than anybody, but he's your brother now, and as his big brother you have to protect him from bad stuff, alright? It's the duty of a big brother." He said, thinking back on his own sister, Sarah, and how if anyone dared try any of the stuff on her that they, themselves, had done to Kurt, he knew he would kill them.

Finn looked up at him then, a strange expression on his face that Puck had never expected to see on his best friend's, but there it was, and nodded once, tersely, before shutting the door and leaving Puck to stand outside the Hud-mel residence once again, shivering slightly from the cold but feeling warmer than he could ever remember being in a strange, confusing way.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and by the way, the title is taken from the song Pieces by Red, as well as the chapter title. I recommend it to everyone. I listened to it on repeat for, like, three hours while writing this. It's kind of addictive, though it takes a bit of getting used to at first ^^'. I hope you enjoyed reading, and please review if you can, I would be very grateful!


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